Anything Goes
by SalvatoreQuinn
Summary: I was nineteen, madly in love and quite a bit stupid when I proposed to Elena. She said yes, obviously. And now, four years later, I would do anything to be single and divorced from that one woman who manages to bring out the worst in me every time I see her face. M-RATED for a reason!


**AN; **SC and FwB will soon be updated too! I haven't had much time  
or fantasy to write for a couple of months but now I'm on an  
updating spree so stay tuned! =)

**Anything goes**  
Chapter one

Damon's POV

I sigh heavily and throw a bunch of dollars on top of the bar as I sit down.

"Where's that pretty wife of yours?" Joe asks discreetly and scratches the back of his baldhead.

Joe, the guy who owns the place – looks at me with raised eyebrows and I shrug tiredly. He knows my story pretty well by now and hands me a tumbler and a bottle of bourbon – out of habit, I'm sure. I want to snicker at the irony of the entire situation but I don't. He knows I'm married because Elena's been picking me up a couple of times. Joe searched through my phone the night I drank myself into pure darkness and called the first person I had listed as ICE.

She had burst through the door twenty minutes later and she'd scolded me so badly that I thought my ears were to fall off. She'd thanked Joe and he'd helped her to get me inside the car. I guess I was pretty heavy for her to carry on her own - I could barely walk on my own.

I had puke in the front seat and she'd cursed me beyond comprehension.

Unlucky for me, she'd forced me to clean the entire car the morning after and let me tell you – it sucked.

"Don't know. Don't care." I shrug and gulp down the bourbon.

It burns in the back of my throat but as of right now, it's exactly what I need. I need to feel something. Anything – as long as it's not connected to Elena.

"Alright." Joe sighs and leaves me alone at my usual spot.

I got into a nasty fight with my _beloved_ wife. Yup, I'm married and miserable.

Normally this time of night I'm sleeping in the guest room – in my own house I might add – but not tonight. Scratch that, I haven't slept in my bedroom for three months because Elena is occupying ? Because she's the girl. The female. So it's like an unwritten rule that she's the one who doesn't have to move out of the enormous, lofty, gorgeous bedroom._ Who made all these stupid rules?_

I was nineteen, madly in love and quite a bit stupid when I proposed to Elena. She said yes, obviously. And now, four years later, I would do anything to be single and divorced from that one woman who manages to bring out the worst in me every time I see her face. I can't remember the last time she actually smiled at me or talked to me without that frown being present on her face. Somehow, I manage to piss her off no matter what I say. It's driving me crazy.

So what started tonight's fight you might ask? Honestly, I don't know.

We just fight. It's what we do and I can't remember the last time I felt happy about going home from work. It's a fucking disaster.

But I won't lie, I was happy in the early state of our relationship but somehow everything just went downhill after we got married and had to grow up for real.

I guess you could say that we fell apart and started to lie to one another. We had always been honest with each other and when one lie expanded to a hundred lies - things were doomed. We started fighting and in the beginning we forgave each other and said that 'we'd start over'. Things were unicorns and flowers for a couple of days and then boom – things got ruined with the flip of a coin.

We stopped talking to each other, we stopped kissing, we stopped touching, we stopped making love. I spent more hours at work than what was necessarily needed. We started to take shortcuts in our own home because we couldn't stand to be in the same room. It sounds crazy but it's my deprived reality whether I like it or not.

Somehow, we accepted it. We accepted the disturbing behavior and didn't think twice about the things we said to each other, we didn't care if our words hurt the other. We knew that we were on the verge of falling apart and I didn't care enough to fix the space between us and neither did Elena.

I can't blame her for not fighting to destroy the space between us though - I wasn't easy to handle – I never have been and I never will be. But Elena knows how to push my buttons and our fights are getting worse and worse, so I fled the house and got in my car and ended up at 'Joe's'.

It's not that difficult to understand that I'm here in order to get laid. Sometimes I just need a woman to look at me without the annoying gaze of hurt and anger. Sometimes I just want someone to appreciate me without the fighting. I'm planning to find a willing lady to spend the night with, preferably at her place – because I doubt that Elena would be happy if she woke up to find her husband with another woman.

She knows I'm cheating on her. She knows I'm fucking other women since I'm not fucking her. However, I know she's cheating on me too and like I said earlier, I can't really blame her - I guess she's got needs to.

I pour myself another glass of bourbon and leave my seat to walk across the room. I've spotted a blonde in one of the corners, she's sitting alone in her booth and she's been ogling me since the second I entered the bar. My phone buzzes in my pocket but I ignore it.

"Is this seat taken?" I smirk and wiggle my eyebrows.

"No." She giggles and slides further into the booth.

She instantly starts to cling on me and I know that within an hour, I'll be in a stranger's bed, thrusting into a woman who's not my wife - thrusting into a woman who's not Elena and I don't even care.

* * *

Elena's POV

It's 5 am. I've been awake for three hours – stupid nightmares. And to be honest I couldn't go back to sleep knowing that Damon didn't come home last night, even if I really wanted to just erase him from my thoughts.

We might be a married couple – but we act far from it. If our friends and families could see us half of the time we spend together – then they'd be shocked.

I can't remember the last time we touched out of love or passion. He's got a temper I barely know how to handle anymore. We are falling apart, crashing towards the ocean and the saddest part? _We don't care._

We used to be so in love. We had it all. We used to be like fire and rain. Whenever I started burning, he managed to calm me down with that husky voice of his. He used to be everything I needed, everything I wanted but that changed so quickly that I barely had the chance to notice it.

I don't even remember when things went so out of control. There are days when I look at myself in the mirror and I don't recognize the person looking back at me. When did I turn into such a raging bitch? When did we stop loving each other? I ask myself if there was something we did wrong but I can't find an answer. We just fell out of love.

I just woke up one morning feeling empty and lonely even though he stood right beside me. At some point we stopped making love – it felt as if the fire between us had been drowned in water. The cheating begun shortly after we stopped having sex. I'm not sure if I was the first one to cheat on my partner or if Damon beat me to it.

When we stood in the church, reading our vows out loud – I made a silent promise to be true to my husband for as long as forever goes – Damon made the same promise. See how well that turned out – we are so fucked up.

I sit up in bed, knowing that I need to take a shower and wash away the touch of another man before going to the store.

I work at the flower shop and Mrs. Lockwood is one demanding woman. Besides my dictator of a boss, I do like my job.

Decorating bouquets is fun and it gives me other, happier things to think about than my failed marriage.

* * *

Damon's POV

I wake up in a stranger's bed the next morning. _Fuck. _When did I fall asleep? I usually leave as fast as possible. I'm tired and hung-over. My head feels like it's exploding over and over again - I have a headache from hell. The sunlight sting my eyes and I groan quietly.

I smell the scent of sweet cheap perfume. I take a look over my shoulder and see the blonde who's sleeping right next to me and remember last night, though most of it is a blur. Heck, I don't even remember her name and even if I did, I wouldn't use it.

Should I feel guilty? Probably – but I don't feel anything. I don't feel guilty. I don't feel like a cheating husband. I don't feel a thing.

I pull a hand through my hair and sit up. I search for my clothes on the woman's bedroom floor and check my phone while I'm pulling up my jeans. A text from Elena - asking me whether I'm dead or not - light up my screen and I type a quick and short reply. I continue to get dressed and stare at the naked, sleeping blonde before I shake my head at my own thoughts. _Nope, not even going there._

I leave her apartment and at first I have a hard time remembering which way to go in order to get back to Joe's bar. It's 5 am and the city is already wild awake with honking cars and people running their daily rounds. I move forward and thankfully, my car is still waiting for me outside the bar and I sigh tiredly. I don't feel like going home before work but I'm in desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes.

Going home means dealing with Elena's _'every day fury'_and I'm not sure my head is up for it this morning.

However, if I'm lucky, she might still be asleep and I can walk in and out without any trouble whatsoever.

I'm not afraid of my own wife - I just can't stand to fight with her all the time. And believe me, we fight all the freaking time. She's driving me absolutely crazy whenever she opens her mouth and it's annoying the crap out of me. I don't know how many times I have packed my duffel bag, ready to leave for good. I always manage to remember that it's my house too. It's my home as much as it's hers and I can't leave - not permanently.

I park my car beside Elena's red mini cooper - remembering the fact that I bought her that car and roll my eyes at the irony. She'd had me wrapped around her finger the minute I first laid my eyes on her.

But instead of going down memory lane I get out of the car. I yawn as I unlock the front door.

Our house was a wedding present from our families. Living in Denver isn't great – but there's one perk of living here though. Our families live in Atlanta and they don't have the time to visit us that often. Which means, that we don't have to fake a successful marriage in front of them.

"What the fuck, Elena." I groan as I walk into our kitchen.

There are a couple of empty wine bottles and a pair of glasses on top of the counter. So she managed to entertain herself last night. I grimace – I guess I'm not the only one who's been moaning loudly throughout the night. This is so typical Elena. She fucks them inside our house and it's almost shocking to admit it, but I barely give a fuck – as long as I don't have to cook the guy breakfast in the morning.

Even though I don't blame her for spreading her legs I'm still pissed off that she can't clean up after herself. The mess is too much for me to handle this early in the morning so I flee and steer my feet to the bathroom beside the guest room. I'm quick to dislodge my clothes and throw them in the washing machine before getting in the shower. The water is hot against my skin and I try to relax, my muscles feel tense after the last couple of days.

I wash my hair and soak my dick with shampoo, massaging it slowly. Mr. Dick himself stands up on command but I'm not up for it right now. I'm too mad at Elena and the way she's messing up our silent agreement.

* * *

"You look awful."

"Thanks Dave. Elena's been on my ass this morning and I don't need you to throw more shit at me. Okay?"

"Oh. Touchy subject." Dave sits down in on of the armchairs. "What did you do this time? I mean, seriously Damon, you need to get your shit together."

"Easy for you to say. You're not married."

"I'm just saying... As a friend... You and Elena are a terrible match."

"Can't disagree with you about that." I mutter.

The rest of the day goes by slowly and my headache is not helping. I drink more coffee than what is probably good for you and the caffeine is making me feel a little bit more energized – I'm going to need it if I plan on surviving the rest of the day.

* * *

"There's a plate of lasagna for you in the microwave." She meets my gaze and breaks the contact between us in order to continue to spread her notes over the kitchen island.

"Great." I mutter tiredly.

"You're welcome." She snorts.

I almost bite my tongue in order to keep my mouth shut but it's impossible. I just have to spew out something mean. I swear it's like a freaking disease and the venom is quickly spreading with every vocal sound she utters.

"Did you have a good day?"

"As if you actually care." She retorts.

"Exactly."

And so it begins.

.

_Five minutes later  
_

"I can't do this anymore." She yells at me. "Get the fuck out! Now!"

Sometimes I feel really bad for our neighbors – they must've heard us fight at least once. It's a miracle they haven't called the police yet. Some days it might sound as if we are actually trying to kill each other. And some days I look at Elena and feel the hatred roll of off her in waves.

I clench my jaw and plaster a fake grin onto my face. My patience is long gone by now and so is the calm demeanor I'd shouldered earlier at work. I feel like grabbing the turquoise, horribly ugly vase to my left and throw it to the ground. I feel like trashing the entire kitchen. My anger is so overwhelming that I pant in frustration.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" She questions, arms crossed above her chest.

"It's my house too! You're free to leave at any second."

"I want you out. Just leave. I don't want to see you."

"Likewise. Pack a bag and get out. I'm sure you can stay with Caroline. She'll be happy about this. She's always hated me." I snort and remember some very unfunny moments with Miss Forbes present in our lives.

That freaking Barbie even tried to hijack our honeymoon! Who does that?

"Can you blame her?" Elena shrieks. "You're an ass! You've never treated her with respect!"

_True. _I shrug. I don't give a flying fuck.

"That blonde Barbie doesn't even deserve my respect!" I say to her. I mean it and my wife knows it.

Elena pulls her hands through her hair and walks out of the kitchen. Aha.

Great. 'Perfect', I think to myself. Here we go again. Whenever things get spiced up Elena disappears immediately – but I'm not going to let her flee this time. I'm tired of her running whenever things get ruff. I'm tired of the wheel we're constantly spinning in. It goes round, round, round and nothing – NOTHING – ever gets solved.

"You always do that." I say with an irritated voice and follow her out into the living room.

"What?" She stops and turns around.

She gives me a furious glare, a glare that almost kills me from the inside out. Her brown doe eyes are black with unresolved anger and I step forward. I move so close to her that I can feel her breath on my lips.

"You shut down. You just walk away and I'd say that's because of you and your annoying fear of conflict – this it's your fault. It's your fault that we are here in the first place."

"Maybe that's because I don't want to go to jail." She threatens.

"For what?" I quip and raise my eyebrows as if to piss her off.

"For murdering you in your sleep!"

"Blame it all on me, Elena! That's what you do! That's what you always do! But deep down, you know that we have fallen apart… all because of you and that's why you walk around with an expression of shame on your face. So if you're going to blame someone – blame yourself."

SMACK!

To my big surprise she had raised her hand and my head had snapped to the left as her tiny, soft palm had collide with my face.

That was a first. Elena had never ever slapped me before. I stare back at her, my mouth ready to fall open in utter shock. At first she seems to be shocked at her own behavior but the glimpse of remorse disappear quickly.

That was the absolute, last fucking drop – my goblet overflow.

She turns around in order to flee upstairs. _Not this time, princess._

I grab her by the arm and spin her around. My lips crash onto hers within seconds and I breathe her in. The familiar scent of strawberries and vanilla fill my nostrils.

At first she's like a statue in my arms until the second she decides to let go of everything. This is not love. It's not passion. It not sex. It's fucking. It's raw and animalistic like.

I'm quick to back her up against the wall and lift her up, placing my hips between her spread legs. The black pencil skirt bursts at the seams. I fumble with my hands as she pulls at my belt. I hold her up against the wall as my hands roam her body. Our mouths are fighting for dominance. She sucks my lower lip into her mouth and I nip her with my teeth. She groans and grabs the back of my head, raking her fingers through my dark hair.

This is angry sex. The kind of sex you only imagine in your wildest dreams. We've had drunken sex, reconciliation sex, happy sex, passionate sex – we've had all of it – except angry sex.

I have to have her. I have to take her - hard - painfully hard. I have to claim her as mine.

And I do. The moment I slam into her, our eyes meet for a second or two. Her body welcomes me and her muscles clench around my shaft. My body recognizes hers even though I don't want to feel the connection between us.

I can't even remember the last time I was inside her.

I thrust my hips forward and upwards. As of right now I don't care if she reaches her peak or not – it's not about our pleasure. It's about anger, madness and betrayal.

As our bodies slam into each other I move backwards. Somehow, we end up on the floor – just in front of the stairs. Elena tangles her legs around my waist, grabbing my buttocks as I thrust into her with all my pent up emotions. I'm still mad as hell and need to make her hurt the way I'm currently hurting.

I suck at her neck, grabbing her hands, holding her down. I press her to the floor with my weight and she groans. I don't know if she groans out of pleasure or discomfort. All I know is that I don't care. I don't have the energy or the power to care about none of it – and I don't want to.

The only sound spreading throughout the house is our desperate gasps and the sweaty sound of the two bodies coupling and slamming into one another.

I pull out and slam into her without remorse and I feel her tense underneath me. She's close – I know her body as if it were my own – I recognize the small things that will eventually set her off.

I don't want to care but I do – unmercifully. As if on autopilot I move my hips and roll them in a different angle. She cries out and for a moment I forget that I'm so mad at her that I barely remember how to function properly. I still know her body as if it were a custom made instrument for me and it feels beyond tragic.

I know that this is the last time. I know that this is a maddening goodbye. We are letting go for the last time. We have to. It's the only option and I feel certain about it.

Elena starts to lift her hips to meet mine and soon, we reach oblivion together. I fill her up as my dick pulsates in a pure orgasmic state. She whimpers and I bury my face in the crook of her neck as I come violently. It almost hurts.

I pant on top of her and she breathes heavily under me.

We stay still until Elena pushes me off of her and quietly leaves me with my jeans hanging low around my ankles. I pull a hand through my hair and slam my fist into the wall behind me.

Emotions are running wild inside me and it's frightening – maddening even. My brain bursts into flames as I think of all the different ways I could've handled this. What is going through Elena's mind? Is she as shocked and mind blown as I am? How the fuck would I ever know? I should know her by now but I don't.

Even though I'm not certain about her thoughts – I still know that she knows too. _We're over._

I button my jeans and pull a hand through my hair. All I know as of right now – is that I need air, because I can't breathe. It's like I'm choking and my chest contorts with pain. I head out through the backdoor and lean against the brick wall. I force myself to take deep breaths as I hyperventilate. After a couple of minutes I stand up tall and see the neighbors kids standing on their porch – staring at me as if I'm a fucking movie star.

Christie, the youngest of the girls wave at me and giggle quietly. I wave back effortlessly before I get into my car.

I have no idea where the hell I'm going. I can't face Elena right now and she won't want to see me either. The best thing is to stay away for at least a couple days until I have a permanently place to stay at.

* * *

Elena's POV

I stare up at him and feel as if someone just threw a bucket of ice-cold water over me. Judging by his facial expression – he feels the same way.

I hold my breath – afraid of moving. He's still deep inside me and suddenly - I panic. Being in his arms feels so disgustingly wrong. I push him off of me and disappear up the stairs. My tears fall before I even reach the bathroom. I slam the door and walk straight into the shower. I pull off my white shirt and the remnants of my outfit.

I cringe in despair as I feel the sticky liquid that slowly flows down between my thighs. I bite my lip, trying to keep my sobs low and unnoticeable.

My body starts convulsing and without thinking about it I bend over and empty the contents of my stomach on the floor.

I can't think straight and slump down against the cold tiles. The water is soaking me now but I don't feel like moving. I don't even think I can move. I feel as if I can't walk or even wash myself properly – so I stay right where I am – for minutes, for hours. I don't even know.

I know that what happened so fiercely between us, probably happened for the last time. I can't help myself and sob louder than before. It's over. We're over for good. I just know it. I felt it. He felt it. I'm sure of it.

I feel hollow, broken and stupid but at the same time… I feel as if a weight has been lift of off my shoulders. It's over. It's over. Over.

We are over.

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